


Would you like to meet me, darling?

by Futureworldruler



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Baze is a little shit, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Chirrut is a little shit, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Space Husbands, canon typical death, i love my space dads, ignore the death and focus on the love, meet cute maybe?, space dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9828881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Futureworldruler/pseuds/Futureworldruler
Summary: “Don’t move,” Baze told the boy, pressing the gun up against his temple and slipping his arm under his neck. For his part, the boy stilled instantly, hands falling down by his sides. But then he said,“Ah, so it’s you,” and, as if there wasn’t a weapon up against his head, turned around to face him. “It took you long enough.”Baze blinked. This wasn’t how a robbery was supposed to go.This is the story of Baze and Chirrut





	1. Would you like to meet me, darling?

**Author's Note:**

> I love these space dads immensely and I just want them to be happy so instead of focusing on the end of the movie let's focus on their probably beautiful backstory. 
> 
> WARNING: this story goes up to the end of Rogue One, meaning there is canon typical death. 
> 
> If you think I should put any more warnings up please let me know!

Baze always knew too much about guns for his own good. How to conceal, assemble, carry, the feel of different makes in his hand and where he needed to be for the shot to land perfectly. It was dangerous knowledge, in this day and age. But it gave him money in his pocket and a place to sleep every night and really that was all he needed, even if it did land him in situations like this one. 

“Don’t move,” Baze told the boy, pressing the gun up against his temple and slipping his arm under his neck. For his part, the boy stilled instantly, hands falling down by his sides. But then he said, 

“Ah, so it’s you,” and, as if there wasn’t a weapon up against his head, turned around to face him. “It took you long enough.”

 

Baze blinked. This wasn’t how a robbery was supposed to go.

 

Quickly, he pushed the boy away, keeping his gun trained on him. There was not much moonlight to go by, but Baze thought he saw him smile, lean against the wall casually.

“I said don’t move,” he growled again. The boy shrugged.

“Who me?” His teeth gleamed in the night.

 “I don’t know you,” Baze said, like a question. The boy shrugged again.

 “Not yet.”

 “Did you know I was going to be here?”

Another shrug.

 “Who told you?” Baze hissed through gritted teeth. It was probably Kitsulai, _that bastard._ Everyone should’ve been sleeping, or at least in other parts of the building. And they had no use for troublesome guards; no one was stupid enough to rob a temple.

 Except for Baze.

 He was told this job was going to be easy. He wasn’t supposed to run into anyone at this hour, much less a silly, monk-in-training _boy_ out for a midnight snack.

 The boy in question offered him another shrug.

 “You don’t know them.” He studied Baze critically. “Yet.”

 “What the hell does that mean?”

 “The force works in mysterious ways.”

 

Baze wondered if he was dreaming. Having a nightmare, yes, a nightmare where a boy with glittering eyes and a lilting voice told him nonsense until he got so frustrated he gave up and slunk back to Hauri with his tail between his legs.

 

Instead he snarled,

“I’ll give you ten seconds to walk away and pretend you didn’t see anything before I shoot you.”

 The boy didn’t move.

“You’re here to steal the crystals, aren’t you?” He asked, tilting his head. “You’re one of Hauri’s Boys.”

 His fingers tightened.

 “Five seconds,” he said.

 The boy sighed, rolled his eyes, and pushed off of the wall.

“Or I could show you where the crystals are,” he lilted.

 “Why would you do that?”

 “I have to find _some_ way to entertain myself,” he threw over his shoulder, walking down the hallway. Hesitantly, Baze followed, keeping his gun pointed at him.

 “Answer the question,” he said with more force.

 “Well, because,” the boy pursed his lips over his blooming grin. He couldn’t have been much younger than Baze, but he acted like he was twenty years his senior, like his auntie who had always seemed to know more than him. “Why not?”

 

Baze did not trust him even a little bit.

  
As they walked down the hallway, the boy swung his staff back and forth on the ground, as if testing it.

 “Are you blind?” Baze asked, curious.

 “Yes,” the boy smiled. “Surprised?”

 “No?” Baze said. “Should I be?” The boy’s smile widened.

 “I can see through the force sometimes,” he said conversationally. “If it lets me.”

 “What the hell is the force?”

 “The force connects us all, a binding energy, an all-knowing light.” A reverent look spread over his face and Baze wondered if he had accidentally walked into a cult. “It sees all. It knows all. It’s inside each and every one of us.”

 “That sounds like bantha dung,” Baze said bluntly. The boy laughed.

“Maybe,” he sighed. “Many like to think so, but I still see through its eyes, sometimes.”

“What, like, into the future?”

“Occasionally,” he said vaguely.

“You speak in too many riddles,” Baze grumbled. The boy laughed again. After a pause, he said,

“You know, that’s what the crystals are.”

“What?”

“The force.”

 Baze snorted. “Yeah right. They’re rocks.”

“But powerful rocks.”

“Still rocks.”

“Isn’t a weapon just rock until we hammer it into something to kill?” The boy raised his eyebrows. Baze considered this.

“Fair point.”

“We protect these ‘rocks’,” the boy continued. “They are what powers the temple, our souls and teachings.” He looked at Baze. “Why does Hauri want the crystals?” Now it was Baze’s turn to shrug.

“Don’t know. I just do what he says.”

 

Baze had joined Hauri’s Boys two years ago, after his auntie died of the scorching and he found himself on the street with nothing but his sense that things had to change quick or else he was going to end up dead in an alleyway. There were plenty of monsters-and people-willing to cut down young boys just to see what they had in their pockets. Hauri offered some protection from that. It was one of the many gangs around Jyha, but it was the one that got to Baze first.

 

Baze was good with guns. People appreciated this.

 

“If these stones are powerful,” Baze mused. “He probably wants them for that.”

 “Do you think he deserves that power?” The boy quirked an eyebrow at him. Baze thought about that, how they all scrounged for food, places to sleep, medicine for cuts and bruises and coughs that were too loud. He thought about the greed in Hauri’s eyes and how he liked to shove them around when he felt like it.

 Baze didn’t answer.

 

The two of them crept through the hallway, the only sound the boy’s stick scraping against the dirt floor.

 

\---

 

“Here they are.” He gestured to the altars. “Are you going to take them?”

Baze looked at them, faint light emitting from their centers. He looked at the boy, who was staring at him intensely.

 “If I don’t, they’ll kill me,” he told him.

 “Sometimes you have to do things that hurt you for the good of many,” the boy shot back.

Baze looked back at the crystals. He hadn’t been able to consider others very much before. He was a little too busy making sure ‘the others’ didn’t get to him first.

 “You will make a good monk,” he said instead, and the boy laughed.

“You would make a good hero.”

Baze laughed at that, too.

 “Where will I go?” He thought aloud.

 “Stay here. Work at the temple.”

“With your rocks?”

 “With me.” The boy smiled. “We will protect you.”

 “No.” Baze shook his head. It would be too ugly, if Hauri found out he was staying here. “I would not make a very good monk.”

 

Discussion over, he walked over to the window and shoved his gun into his pants.

“There will be more of me,” Baze warned, glancing back at the boy who was leaning on his staff. “Hauri won’t give up on the crystal just because one ran away.”

 “We can handle it. You aren’t the first one to come, you know.”

 “Then why’d you let me get so far?” Baze’s eyebrows wrinkled. The boy shrugged. _Riddles_ , Baze thought. He heaved himself over the window and began descending down the wall of the temple.

 “I’m Chirrut.” A head popped into view. Baze stopped, looked up.

 “I’m Baze,” he answered.

 “I know.” The boy’s lips quirked.

 “No you didn’t.”

 “I do now.”

 “Go back to your rocks,” Baze grinned up at him before starting to climb down again.  

 

“Chirrut,” he murmured to himself.

  
_Good to know_


	2. Under our blank night sky

“Buddy boy-o,” Kitsulai grinned at Baze. “Have you made some mistakes my friend!”

Baze scowled back at him, shoulders tight and hand inching towards the gun in his belt.

“You thought you could get away from Hauri? The man himself?” Kitsulai continued. He was practically frothing at the mouth with excitement, outlined by his two sidekicks. Kitsulai always hated Baze, stars knew why. Amanti, Baze’s friend, told him it was because Baze always got the best jobs and knew his way around the weapons more than any of the other boys, but Kitsulai was one of Hauri’s favorites, the most like the slimy bastard. Why he’d singled out Baze as his rival was beyond him, though he’d surely enjoy beating Baze into the sand and dragging his body back to Hauri’s feet like the good dog he was.

 

Baze had taken to the streets after his chat with the boy-Chirrut-in the temple. It was the safest place for him, besides hopping a ship and taking off for another planet, though there wasn’t a lot of people willing to take a hunk of a boy onboard for free. There weren’t a lot of people leaving in the first place. All this sand didn’t attract many tourists, and most were too poor to ship themselves somewhere else.

He could’ve joined another gang, but no one would’ve taken him on with Hauri hot on his trail, lest they create strife between the two groups.

Baze had figured he had a couple of days before Hauri realized he wasn’t dead. 

 

It had been a couple of days.

 

“Nowhere to run now, Baze,” Kitsulai advanced. “Nowhere to hide.”

“Walk away Kitsuali,” Baze growled. Kitsulai broke into cackles.

“I’m sure you’d like that, huh? Well-”

He didn’t finish that sentence because when Baze blinked, he was lying in the dust four feet away from him. Not one to throw away such a beautiful distraction, Baze quickly swiped the feet of Kitsulai’s sidekicks out from under them as they stared gaping, and took off running.

He didn’t expect to catch a pole in the stomach though.

“Sorry, sorry!” A familiar voice cut through his pain as he lay on the ground wheezing. “Hard to tell whose side you’re on when you can’t see anything.”

“Try a little harder,” Baze gasped, opening one eyelid. Chirrut’s face gazed worriedly back at him. “What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, he offered him a hand and Baze grasped it, heaving himself onto his feet.

“C’mon, there’ll be more of them,” Chirrut told him, and Baze rolled his eyes and said,

 “Obviously,” as they took off down the alleyway.

 

When they were back in the busy marketplace, he rounded on the boy.

 “What are you doing?” He demanded.  

 “Saving you, obviously,” Chirrut said flippantly, turning towards the hum of the market. “What is that smell?”

 “I don’t need saved,” Baze growled.

 “Ha! Could’ve fooled me.”

 Baze felt his anger blister. “Listen kid-”

“Kid!” Now it was Chirrut’s turn to look mad. “We’re like the same age!”

 Baze rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean-”

“And, again, _I_ saved _you_ , which you’re welcome-”

“You got lucky-” Baze argued.

“I don’t need luck,” Chirrut said dismissively.

“Well, _I_ don’t need anyone fighting _my_ fights.”

“Sure looked like you did.”

“I didn’t,” Baze huffed. “And you could’ve gotten _hurt_ -”

“You were _gonna_ get hurt,” Chirrut argued.

“So?” Baze shot back.

Chirrut looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe this was just another nightmare.

 “Get lost, kid,” Baze told him. “This is my fight. Not yours. You shouldn’t get shot trying to join in.”

 “No one got shot,” Chirrut rolled his eyes.

 “Yeah but someone _could’ve_.”

 “But no one _did_.”

 “Stars above, you are so _annoying_ ,” Baze growled, clenching his hands. He wanted to grab him and shake until some sense fell out. Instead, he let out a frustrated huff of air and said, “Just stay out of it, okay?” And took off before the boy could offer a response.

 

\--------

 

He did not, surprisingly stay out of it.

Baze wasn’t shocked, but he did let out a, “You son of a bantha!” when he caught Chirrut’s staff flying through the air. He didn’t even look chastised, just knocked another one of Hauri’s Boys, who had, predictably, not given up on killing Baze yet, down into the dirt and grinned at him.

 

“No one got shot,” Chirrut insisted, when they had finished and Baze had dragged him away.  

 “That’s not the point!” Baze boomed, then took a somewhat calming breath. “That’s not the point-”

 Chirrut interrupted him. “You’re not going to shoot anyone anyway.”

 “They might.”

 “Not before you get to them.”

 “ _I_ might,” Baze countered darkly.

“No you won’t,” Chirrut said blithely, and with a grin he lobbied, “It’s not what heroes do.”

 He scampered away while Baze was left hanging slack jawed.

 

“I’m not a hero!” Baze called after him. He grumbled, “And you need luck to win without a gun.”

“I don’t need luck!” Chirrut yelled somewhere out of sight and Baze just shook his head.

 

\---------

 

“How do you keep finding me?” Baze asked in wonder as he nailed a guy in his side.

 “I am one with the force!” Chirrut grinned, slamming into someone with his staff. Baze rolled his eyes but after they were done, he simply walked away.

 Chirrut let him go.

 

\-------

 

Chirrut didn’t understand. There would come a day, there would be a day, when Hauri would send too many guys, or too many guns, and Baze wouldn’t be quick enough and he would die. It was inevitable. Chirrut being there, on that day, would just mean there would be two bodies in a shallow grave, if not thrown on the side of the road and left for the rats. For some reason, Baze didn’t want Chirrut to end up with a bullet in his brain, so he’d prefer it if he stayed the hell away. Chirrut, God above, did not understand this.

 

\-------

 

“Chirrut.”

“Baze.”

_“Chirrut.”_

_“Baze.”_

 Baze whirled on him, skin on fire. “Chirrut. Stop following me.”

 Chirrut brushed a piece of fuzz of his shirt. “No.”

 “I’m not a charity case.”

 Now Chirrut looked at him. “I didn’t say you were.”

“So leave me alone.”

“So you can be killed by Hauri’s dumb gang?”

 Baze didn’t say anything, but his answer was clear.

“Why do you want to die so much?” Chirrut huffed.

 Baze rolled his eyes. “I don’t,” he said. “That’s just...the way it works.”

 “It doesn’t have to be.” Chirrut glared at the crumbling plaster forming the base of a building.

 “Chirrut,” Baze said, softer this time, eyes doing something strange.

 “What?” Chirrut snapped.

 “Go home.”

 

\-------

 

Eventually, Hauri did leave Baze alone, though that might’ve been because Baze had chosen some corner of the city and begun to die. He knew he had caught it, felt it simmer in his body until it spread from his throat to his lungs to his brain as he sweated and panted through the days of Jedha’s heat and shivered through its chilly nights. His lungs were on fire, his skin was ice cold and burning hot, body jelly shaped into human form. After two days, he could no longer walk and so he picked an alleyway that was away from all of the hustle and bustle and lied down. It was common to see those striken by the scorching moaning in the streets. His auntie had died from it. No it was his turn, he supposed.

 

It felt a little dumb to have survived this long only to sit down and accept death wheezing, but it was the only option when everything went fuzzy around the edges. Chest hurting. Skin burning.

 

It was time.

 

\--------

 

“Baze, oh Force, Baze, Baze?”

 

“Force, Baze, How could you be so stupid?”

 

“I’m going to kill you myself you kriffing bantha dung.”

 

“Get up, Baze, c’mon, get up, _get up_.”

 

“Force above you weigh like a million pounds.”

 

“Baze? I’m Irina, I’m a friend of Chirrut’s. We’re going to help you okay?”

 

“I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is…”

  
  
“Please wake up, Baze. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little cliffhanger there. Will post again real soon! As always, thanks for reading :)


	3. These people know too much for me

Baze opened his eyes to soft light. A candle was burning nearby. It was dark in the rest of the room.

 

 _It must be night_ , he thought.

 

His head felt jumbled, put together with the wrong pieces. Wheezing lungs pumped air inside his chest and the sheets beneath him were covered in sweat. The bed was comfortable though. That was something.

 

_Why was he in a bed?_

 

Hesitantly, he shifted so he was lying on his side. Chirrut sat in a chair close enough to touch, eyes closed, though when Baze blinked, they were open, milky blueness staring at the wall behind his back.

 

“You’re awake,” he whispered. Baze didn’t respond, too tired to do anything but breathe deep.

 

“You’re an idiot, Baze,” Chirrut said for him, arms crossed and glaring for all reasons.

 

“Go to sleep,” Baze croaked.

“You’re in my bed,” Chirrut glared harder.

“Oh.”

 

They sat in silence until, without thinking, Baze opened his arms and Chirrut climbed in with him.

 

“You’re sweaty,” Chirrut complained.

“It’s the force,” Baze said.

“That’s not-,” Chirrut sighed. “Whatever, I’ll teach you in the morning.”

 

\--------

 

He tried, but Baze still didn’t understand.

“So it’s like...particles in the air?” Baze said. Chirrut rolled his eyes.

“Yes, just like dust, you must sweep the force away every few months lest it gather too much.”

“Hey that may be true.”

“No.” Chirrut shook his head. “It’s like...a feeling.”

“So you see through a feeling,” Baze said skeptically.

“ _No_ , it’s like,” Chirrut waved his hands, grasping for something. “Force, I thought _I_ was the annoying one.”

Baze grinned at him.

 

When he’d gained enough strength to walk, Chirrut took him up to see the crystals. Baze had tried to leave the first second he could stand, but Chirrut had pushed him back into the the bed.

 

“No,” he had said, voice demanding. Irina, one of the monks in the temple and the resident healer, had affirmed this.

 “You still need to rest, and you should do it here, where it is safe,” he told Baze. “You’re lucky you even survived this. You shouldn’t expect to be on your feet a couple of days after the scorching.” Baze grumbled something about being coddled, but then Chirrut glared at him until he meekly climbed back underneath the covers.

 

When he could laugh without wheezing, and his knees supported him on his own, they climbed up to the altar.

 

“See how the hum? The light within?” Chirrut asked him. Baze cocked his head at them.

 “Sort of.” He was leaning on Chirrut, a little for support and a little because it was nice, warm, but now Chirrut pulled away and swatted at him.

 “Try harder,” he commanded.

 “I am.”

 

He tried. Weeks passed by as he prayed with the monks, ate breakfast with them, slept in rooms full of the little monklings and still did not feel it. He did wonder why no one had turned him out on his head, why they let a street boy into their temple. Everyone acted like it was the most natural thing for Chirrut to gain a shadow.

 

“Do they know I tried to steal your-,” Baze asked Chirrut, but he just cut him off with a dismissive sound.

 “It doesn’t matter,” he told him. Baze made a face at him and Chirrut smiled. “You didn’t actually steal them, did you?”

“No but-”

“So it doesn’t matter.”

 

It felt like it mattered. He felt like a tree in the desert, sticking out from the cool ground like a beacon just asking to be struck down by lightning.

 

“Do you want me to shave your head?” Chirrut asked bluntly.

 “No,” Baze rolled his eyes. Only the monks and the trainees shaved their heads. He was neither, still didn’t have a place here. “I just don’t want...I just think that-”

 “Baze,” Chirrut interrupted him. “No one thinks you stick out. You’re one of us.”

 “Really?”

 Chirrut huffed in annoyance. “Yes, dummy.”

 

Baze wasn’t so sure. There was something going around about him at the temple.

 

“Look, it’s Chirrut’s charity case!” A young monk-in-training cawed at him. Kids were little shits.

 

“Chirrut’s charity, right here, for sale!” A small girl twittered around him, and the other children giggled.

 

“His name,” Chirrut exploded, boxing her across the ear. “Is _Baze_.”

No one fought Chirrut; he was too good for anyone to mess with him. But they did pick on Baze, needled his edges and tugged on frayed strands. Usually, Baze wouldn’t have let a word out of their mouth before it was bloody. But he stood on uneven ground here. He didn’t know the rules, if they would actually kick him back onto the streets with one bad word.

  
And maybe they were right, a little. Chirrut did seem to take on a lot of charity cases. There was the smaller recruits, who needed help sometimes in praying, fighting. There was the old dog who had flies and stank and sat outside the temple whining. There was the family with the eight kids and no jobs, the girl who lived on the street and reminded Baze a little too much of himself.

 

“You’re not a charity case,” Chirrut told him one night as they lay side by side on his bed. Baze had been given his own room, with three roommates and everything, but they often snuck into each other’s beds anyway. Baze still didn’t know why. He maintained that it was because Chirrut started it. “You’re _not_.”

 “Okay,” he whispered.

 “I like you.”

 Baze felt his cheeks warm. He wondered what Chirrut meant.

“Okay,” he said stupidly.

“The force…,” a crease formed between Chirrut’s eyebrows. Baze wanted to rub it away with his thumb. “It told me I would meet you.”

At that Baze sat up. “What?”

“It told me we would meet,” Chirrut repeated, drawing him back down. “That you would be in my life.”

“The rocks told you that?” Baze said, for lack of anything better. Chirrut rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” Baze sighed, looking at the ceiling. After a moment, Chirrut giggled.

 “Me neither,” he said.

“Really?”

“Well, not yet.”

 

But as the weeks passed, he noticed people didn’t look at him funny anymore when he shoveled food in his mouth like a rathtar. He noticed people stopped and asked how he was feeling sometimes, if he was getting along okay. He noticed Hauri’s Boys stopped bothering him, that was a big one. The protection of the monks meant more in the city than he had originally thought.

 

It was nice to eat around a table,  to have people ask him how he was feeling. He didn’t think this had ever happened to him before; he didn’t even know what to do with it. Even if the kids bothered him sometimes, Chirrut would stand up for him. The other monks would give them a stern word, put them in the corner. For the first time, there were people behind him, if just one, force-crazy, staff wielding boy.

 

He leaned against Chirrut and let his happiness eek out of him like a purring cat.

 

\------

 

Time marched on.

 

Chirrut became a monk, Baze was labeled a “protector”. They trailed each other around the temple, the city, the pilgrimage sights. They took on more charity cases, though Chirrut would adamantly fight anyone who called them that.

  
When one of the children crawled under Baze’s arm and settled themselves against his side, he looked at Chirrut with panicked eyes.

 "What do I do?"He murmured, but Chirrut just laughed and laughed.

 

Thus the kids got used to him, practically clamored all over his arms and legs whenever they could catch him. He felt like a magnet, crawling with buggers who all wanted to be picked up and given piggy back rides.

 

“It’s because you’re all dark and mysterious,” Chirrut waggled his eyebrows. Baze glowered as one of the little ones sat in his lap and played with a dollie he had found in his pocket. He started keeping little things on his body for them, thinking it would solve the problem of them playing with his gun. All it did though, was cause more of them to run up to him, asking for toys and candies. It wasn’t long before he had a reputation as the “candy man”. If he was going to have any reputation, he really didn’t expect it to be that. But it stuck, for some reason. Chirrut wouldn’t stop laughing. Baze pretended that his laugh wasn’t doing things to his stomach.

 

\-----

 

Baze still kept his gun, even if the monks were strong, even if the walls were tall and the threats were small and Baze had enough food in his stomach for the first time in years and another person warming the other side of the bed more often than not. Even if. Old habits died hard. Although, when Chirrut grabbed his hand while he was cleaning out his weapon, he started to reconsider.

“Heroes don’t use guns,” Chirrut reminded him gently.

 “That’s naive,” Baze set his jaw.

“Heroes don’t use guns,” Chirrut amended. “When there are other options.”

 “There are no other options.”

 “There are now.”

 “You’d need luck-”

“I don’t need luck,” Chirrut told him yet again.

“If you don’t have guns-” Baze ground out.

“I don’t need luck,” Chirrut repeated, grabbing his other hand and smiling. “When I’ve got you.”

 

Baze didn’t swear off guns right away, but when he did eventually set them aside, Chirrut beamed at him like he’d hung the moon. It made it a little better.

 

But then he started using that excuse for _everything_.

 “A hero shares his sweets.”

 “Heroes get out of bed before noon”  
  
“Heroes don’t hit me, stop doing that! Stop it!”

 “Heroes sit still when I’m combing their hair.”

 “You’re tugging on it too hard,” Baze complained, wincing. His hair had grown long and thick without cutting it. Usually, he just tied it back from his head and forgot about it, but Chirrut had made a wounded noise when he'd run his hands through it once and his fingers stuck, so now he took care of it.

 “I’m sorry little my little princess,” Chirrut said snippily. “Would you like to try?”

Baze grumbled, didn’t say anything more.

 

\--------

 

People were saying something new about Baze around the temple.

 

“Baze’s in loove,” Aridite, a newly monk-in-training who’d taken a liking to him, cooed over breakfast when he brought Chirrut’s plate over for him.

 “Shove it, I am _not_ ,” he growled at her, smacking her shoulder.

 

But then he started to hear the whispers.

 

“Baze and Chirrut…”

 

“Chirrut and Baze…”

 

“When are they going to get _married already_ ”

 

Baze didn’t know this was something anyone else thought about. He thought the boundaries were clear; there was Chirrut and then there was Baze. Something warm and liquid filled Baze’s insides when he leaned against him, fought beside him, fell asleep with his back pressing against his own. Something big and bright filled Chirrut when he talked about the force, saved a baby, helped a monkling. He teased Baze, defended him, blazed a trail for him to follow, but nothing about him screamed _I want more_.

 

Baze respected that. He wouldn’t like him, either, given the chance.

 

Then something struck him against the head.

 

 “Ow, Chirrut what the hell-,”

 “Sorry,” Chirrut spit. He did not sound very sorry. “Was your head there? I just saw a big, giant rock.”

 Baze stared at him a second. “Chirrut, you can’t even see.”

 “It’s a metaphor, Baze,” Chirrut seethed, face blazing.

 “Ok-ay,” Baze said, confused, but before he could continue, Chirrut pushed him with his staff again, sending him stumbling. “Chirrut, what are you-.”

 Chirrut just shoved him. On instinct, Baze caught his staff in his hand and held it, but he twisted it out of his hands and swept him off his feet.

 “What the fuck?” Baze wheezed.

 “Get up,” Chirrut snapped.

 “Why, so you can hit me again?”

  
“Yes.”

 “Then, no.”

 

Chirrut responded to that by kicking him in his side.

 

“Get up,” Chirrut repeated. “We’re fighting.”

 “Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Baze snarked, heaving himself to his feet.

 “Yes, put up your fists.”

 “Chirrut,” Baze rolled his eyes. “I am not fighting you.”

 

Chirrut punched him in the face.

 

“What the fuck!” Baze screeched, hands cupping his nose.

 “We’re fighting!” Chirrut argued. “What are you a coward?”

 “I’m not fighting you,” Baze growled.

 “Well, too bad cause it’s happening!”

 

Baze wondered what exactly _was_ happening. But then Chirrut kicked him in the stomach and his thoughts became more preoccupied. He tried to catch Chirrut’s wrists, but the kid was good. He ducked out, swerved, brought his staff into Baze’s side. It was like a weird dance, Baze trying to avoid Chirrut’s blows while simultaneously getting him to stop.

 

“Chirrut-” he gasped, shoving his body just out of the way before his staff hit him. “Will you-” he made a grab for Chirrut’s waist, but he scampered out of his grip and landed an elbow on the side of his face. “Stop for-” he took a step backward, out of reach of his flailing knees. “One _goddamn_ second and explain to me _what is going on_?”

 

Chirrut’s face was screwed up in anger, rage in his eyebrows and mouth and cheeks. Baze didn’t know why, didn’t know what he had done _wrong_. He knew they had an audience, could see the crowd in his peripheral vision and wished for a moment that he was anywhere but here, with Chirrut’s angry fists swinging in front of him. He shifted his feet. The air altered, charged with something different.

 

Against his better judgement, a reflex almost, he kicked Chirrut in his side. The boy gave out an oof, bending over for a second. Concern and horror rushing through him, Baze took a step forward, but Chirrut brought his head up into his face. Baze staggered backwards, leaving his stomach exposed for Chirrut to thrust his staff into it. Baze did not fall down. He did stand straight up with a growl, confusion replaced with something dark. He stepped out of the way of Chirrut’s path, looping around and ramming him in his side. Chirrut lurched unsteadily and Baze hit him again and again and again until he fell over. Baze loomed over him, chest heaving, eyes blazing.

 

“Chirrut,” he snarled. “Stop.”

 

Then, not waiting to see if Chirrut obeyed, he walked away, pushed past the crowd to the cooling shadows of the temple.

 

\------

 

Chirrut found Baze that night in his bed. He stood in the darkness, outlined by the light of the moon, saying nothing as they considered each other in the night air.

 

Baze had left the temple shortly after the fight, blood on his face and bruises blooming beneath his clothes. He walked the streets for a while, found corners to hide in and watch passerbys. For a bit, he considered just never going back, staying there like the street boy he was. If Chirrut was angry enough to fight him, whatever he had done must have been pretty bad. _Chirrut_ had done something pretty bad. Baze wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at him just yet, with his busted lip and aching sides.

 

But he had returned. Slunk through back in through doors in the concealing twilight. No one had seen him, but maybe they had if Chirrut was standing in front of him now.

 

“I thought you had gone,” Chirrut breathed in the dark. Baze shrugged.

 “I came back,” he said. It floated in the air, seeming more important than he had meant. “Heroes, you know, do that, I’ve heard. Sometimes.”

 “I’m sorry,” Chirrut whispered wetly. _Was he crying?_ “I was just,” he sniffled, sat down on the floor with a flump. “Really angry.”

 “Did I do something?” Baze asked tentatively.

 “No.” Baze thought he could see him shaking his head. A pause. “Well, yeah, sort of. But it’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

 “Oh.” That was a confusing answer. He never did stop speaking in riddles.

 "I’m so sorry, Baze,” Chirrut said. Now he was definitely crying, hiccuping around the words. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened I was just-”

 

Baze got out of his bed and walked over to where he was slumped against the wall, sliding down until he could draw him in his arms.

 

“It’s okay,” Baze said. “I think...it will always be okay.”

 “Oh Baze,” Chirrut said. Baze had never seen him cry, not like this. Once, when they had found his friend, the girl from the streets, dead in an alleyway, he had cried. But it was angry crying, the tears falling around clenched teeth and pursed lips, quickly wiped away with the end of his sleeve. This was like pieces breaking apart, the string coming undone and releasing something that had been strung up for a long, long time.

 

Baze didn’t really understand what was happening, but he held Chirrut close to him until the storm passed.

 

When it did, Chirrut sighed, said,

 

“My ass hurts.”

 Baze let out a huff of laughter and stood up, stretching, before bringing Chirrut up with him.

 

“C’mon, let’s get some rest,” he said, drawing them closer to the bed before falling into it with a thump. With Chirrut’s warm breath on his shoulder, he let out the tension leak out of him, settling against the sheets.

 

It was a while before he fell asleep. But that was normal.

 

\-----

 

When they woke up, it was just like any other morning. Chirrut pulled him out of bed and they dressed in the cool, dawn light for breakfast. When he brushed his face, the swollen lip and black eye, he made a noise, hand moving up to cup his cheek. But at the last second, when he would have reached up in any other situation, he stopped, turned back to his pants. 

 “I’m sorry,” he murmured again. Baze hoped he would stop soon.

 

Chirrut didn’t explain himself and Baze didn’t ask. Baze wasn’t going to push it, didn’t really see the point. Aridite, the no good girl, did though.

 

“You two are crazy,” she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long being this stupid.”

 “Leave me alone,” Baze told her, but she ignored him, opting to trot along his side as usual.

 “Seriously, Baze, c’mon. When are you going to pull your head out of your ass?”

 “My head is not in my ass,” Baze deadpanned, walking faster.

 “Ha!” She barked. “That’ll be the day.”

 “Leave me alone, Aridite.”

 “I can’t. I’m pretty sure you’ll die.”

 “What the fuck are you even talking about.”  
  
“She’s talking about you and Chirrut’s shitshow the other day,” another kid piped up and, oh great, now there were two of them.

 “Will you guys stop following me?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 “No,” they said together.

 “You have candy,” Pip, the other kid, said.

 “And drama,” Aridite added.

 “No,” he rounded on her, finger pointed. “No, I do not. My life is normal.”

 “As normal as a romance book,” Aridite snorted.

 “Can I have some candy?” Pip asked.

 “My life is not a romance book,” Baze said, horrified, as he dug around in his pockets. Aridite gave him a look.

 “Baze, you and Chirrut are the definition of a romance book.”

 “Me and Chirrut?” Baze said, brow furrowing. He handed Pip a sweet, who let out a “yes!” before shoving it in his mouth.

 “Uh, yeah,” Aridite kept looking at him. “You basically _fought_ over each other’s _love_ yesterday.”

 “True,” Pip said around his mouthful.

 “What? No we didn’t.” They both stared at him. “Did we?”

 “You totally did,” Aridite nodded her head rapidly.

 “No we didn’t,” Baze said more firmly. “Chirrut was mad at me.”

  
“Yeah, for _denying_ that you _loved_ him.” Aridite waved her hands about. “Remember? At breakfast that one day?”

 “No.” Baze narrowed his eyes.

 “I said ‘you love him’ and you said ‘no I don’t’ and then you fought like girls. Ring any bells?”

 “But…” Baze was so confused. “Chirrut doesn’t like me. Like that. Like…” _love_ , he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.

 “Baze,” Aridite said exasperatedly. “Chirrut? Definitely loves you. Like a lot.”

 “No, he doesn’t.”

“ _Yes_ he _does_ ,” Aridite stressed. Beside her, Pip nodded his head. “Force above, you are so dumb.”

 

Baze’s tongue felt like wood so wordlessly, he turned around and took off down the hallway.

 

“Run Baze! Run to your love!” Aridite cackled behind him. She was probably going to make a good monk, too.

  


Baze found Chirrut in the temple gardens, praying.

 

“I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me,” he intoned, as always.

 

“Chirrut,” Baze broke in. Chirrut didn’t turn, said,

 “Yes?”

 “Chirrut,” Baze said again. “Do you like me?”

 

The muscles in Chirrut’s back tensed.

 

“Of course.” His voice was neutral.

 “Chirrut,” Baze said again.

 “What?”

 “Do you _like_ me?”

 A pause. Then Chirrut turned around to face him, face tight.

 "Baze,” he sighed.

 “Just tell me,” Baze said, heart thrumming. _Aridite was wrong, Aridite was wrong, Aridite was wrong..._

 “Yes,” Chirrut said calmly. “I do.”

 

Baze didn’t know what to do now.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know.” Chirrut rubbed the back of his neck. “Return the feelings. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ve...made my peace with that.”

 “No.” Baze blurted. Chirrut’s face crinkled.

 “What?”  
  
“Don’t, I…” He took a deep breath, finding his resolve. “Now ask me.”

 “Ask you what?”

“Ask me how I feel.”

  _“Baze.”_

  _“Chirrut.”_

 Chirrut let out a long breath.

  
“Fine. Do you like me, Baze?”

 “Yes,” Baze said, eyes shining bright. Chirrut’s eyebrows shot up, mouth parting slightly. “Yes, I do.”

 

They spent a while in the garden after that.

 

\-----

 

When they sat around the breakfast table the next morning, Chirrut munching in his ear and Aridite across from them babbling about something or another, and a kid in his lap teething on a piece of hard candy, a sense of calm came over him.

 

He dropped his fork onto his plate.

 

“I feel it,” he said. “I feel it now.”

 Chirrut looked at him, eyebrows raised.

 “Really?” He pushed.

 “Yes.” Baze nodded his head. “I feel...like this is where I’m supposed to be. Is that it?”

 Instead of answering, Chirrut smiled bright and hooked his head with his hand, planting a kiss on his temple.

 “My little forceling,” Chirrut lilted. “Finally feeling the power of the force. I’m so proud.” He linked their hands together underneath the table and continued eating.

 

  
Around him, his family carried on. And Baze was at peace.


	4. So come, kiss me goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter deals with the empire taking over Jedha and then goes from the beginning of the movie to the end so it does feature Baze and Chirrut dying for a hot second. I tried to avoid the pain a lot and I don't think it's that bad but just a warning. Feel free to just end on the happy note of the last chapter! 
> 
> If you think I should add more warnings, please, please let me know!

The empire came in every story. 

 

Guns held high. Firework explosions. Systematic in their destruction. 

 

Baze didn’t like to think about it too much. But it figured that as soon as he found peace, it was snatched from his outstretched fingers. 

 

Needless to say, now was the time for guns. 

  
  


Blazes through the temple, the halls he had called home. 

 

Cut through people he had come to love. 

 

Too much blood. Too much thickness in the air that was always cool, always smooth. Now teeming with monks and soldiers and wails slicing through the night sky. 

 

It was the most terrifying experience Baze had ever had. He lost Chirrut once, in the chaos of it all, and his heart thud thudded in his chest until he caught him tossing troopers to the ground, a snarl on his face, red on his clothes. 

  
  


In the dark of the night, in his moments of greatest weakness, Baze will thank everything he can think of that Chirrut didn’t die, gratefulness threatening to overwhelm him. 

  
  


In other moments, it will feel like there are too many to mourn. 

  
  


The  _ children _ ….the  _ children _ . 

\-----

 

Baze picked up his gun again, and didn’t put it down. He found another, too, and it weighed heavy on his back, a constant reminder. Chirrut didn’t say anything, even when Baze bought a simple crossbow for him and slung it around his shoulder. 

 

He found them a tiny room in a corner of the city. It was a bed to sleep in, if nothing else. Something more, it was a reminder neither of them liked to think about. 

 

Baze couldn’t really find it in him to laugh when Chirrut took to the streets, becoming a peddler monk who begged on the side of the road. The irony was a little too great for that. 

 

He took a job that no hero would do and told Chirrut he didn’t have to beg anymore, but the monk didn’t say anything to that either. Of course, he found out a few days later, it was because Chirrut was helping others more than himself. He was always one for charity cases, even in this new, colder world. 

 

“You could have told me,” Baze said gruffly. Chirrut rested his head against Baze’s chest, wrapped strong arms around him. 

“I know,” he sighed. “But I was afraid. I don’t want you to let in more people if you’re not ready.”

Baze closed his eyes, pressed his chin into the top of his head.

“I will always follow you,” he said.

 

They did what they could, for the hungry, the poor. The kids on the streets. There were more of them than ever. When the rebel movement was born, with Saw Gerrera at the head, Baze set out to sign his name up, but Chirrut stopped him. 

 

“I sense darkness,” he said. “That is not our path.” 

 

Baze didn’t believe in the force, not anymore. But he did believe in Chirrut and thus sat back down. 

 

Chirrut still kept his faith, prayed in the wee hours of the morning before the small window of their little room. Every day, Baze woke to the sounds of his mantra. 

 

“I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.” 

 

He still kept his faith, but other parts had disappeared. He was hard now, in places where he used to be brightness and laughter. There was something different in his smile, his eyes, like the pain had scarred him in more ways than just scratches on his body. He didn’t joke, like he used to. Didn’t dance circles around Baze with a grin on his face. 

 

At night, Baze wrapped his arms around him and silently repeated his own mantra. 

 

_ I love you, I love you, I love you.  _

 

He meant  _ don’t go, don’t go, don’t go _ . 

 

He meant  _ be safe, be safe, be safe.  _

 

He meant  _ I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. _

 

He meant  _ Please _ . Please don’t take this away from me too. 

 

Chirrut, as always, heard them all anyway. 

 

\------

 

On the day that a girl walked through the town’s square with a crystal around her neck, Chirrut told him, 

“Something’s happening.”

“Hmm,” Baze said as they got ready in their cramped room. 

“Something big.” 

Baze looked at him. 

“Well, we’ll get through it together, then.” 

“I know,” Chirrut rolled his eyes. “Do you have a job today?” They didn’t talk about what Baze did in the dark alleyways of their city, how strongly he relied on his gun nowadays. 

“Yes.” Baze pulled Chirrut close and kissed him on his forehead. “Stay safe.” 

Chirrut snorted. Silently, Baze agreed.  _ Safe _ , now that would be the day. 

  
  
  


Baze was there in the town square, and as much as he didn’t believe in the force nowadays, he still felt the shift in the air when they caught sight of the girl. As Chirrut called out, 

“Do you know what that crystal does?” it was all he could do to keep from sighing. 

 

It was always about the crystals. 

 

“They power a jedi’s lightsaber,” the girl, with the dark eyes and the dark hair and something important moving around about her, said. 

 

When she and her suspicious looking friend, walked away, Baze grumbled,

“You never told me that,” and Chirrut patted his knee consolingly. 

 

\----

 

“The force saved me!” Chirrut cawed around the bodies of the stormtroopers. 

“I saved you!” Baze growled, storming over to him. “Not those particles.”

 

\----

 

“I am one with the force, and the force is with me. I am one with the force, and the force is with me,” Chirrut chanted in the jail of Saw Gerrera. To think Baze almost joined his stupid army. Baze sighed, rolled his eyes in his corner. The other two, the girl and the boy, paced around the cramped room, grumbling and growling.

 

“Do you ever shut up?” The boy snapped and Baze let out a huff of laughter. 

“No,” he said. Figured Chirrut would be the one to drag them into this mess, this new charity case.

“There is someone next door,” was all Chirrut had to say, and thus a new person was added to their strange, ragtag party. Where were the balloons.

 

But this story was more complicated than any of them could have imagined. When the laser hit, sending buildings skyrocketing and children screaming, vaporizing into dust, Baze closed his eyes and thought  _ not again _ . 

 

They flew away on their spaceship and watched their planet die.

 

The wails followed them in more ways than one. Jyn, the girl, sat in the corner as wretched sobs racked her body. It was all Baze could do to not join in. 

 

When they were out of sight of the scene of the battle and only the stars surrounded them, when they were safe from the prying eyes of their new crew and alone in a corner a little too small for the both of them, Baze leaned against Chirrut and let out his careful breath. Chirrut sighed too, rested his head against him as they held each other tight against the storm. 

 

\-----

 

This whole story was full of bad feelings. 

 

“You’ll need luck,” Baze called after him as Chirrut left the ship for this new planet with the fathers and the murderers and decisions people had to make.   
  
“I don’t need luck,” Chirrut shot back, and even though Baze couldn’t see him, he knew he had that shit-eating grin on his face. “I’ve got you!” 

Baze rolled his eyes, but he followed him. When did he not? 

 

\-----

 

Baze didn’t like anyone in the rebel base. Didn’t like them, didn’t trust them. It was an easy decision to follow Jyn with the crystal and Cassian with the look in his eye and Bodhi who looked like he was going to fall apart with a push of Baze’s finger. Especially with Chirrut beside him, smiling more than he had since their days in the temple. 

 

As they sat in the belly of the plane, waiting to touch down at Scarif and begin the war that would stretch longer than any of them would think, past stars, planets, past  _ them _ , Baze thought more about the temple than he had before the empire’s takeover. 

 

It was strange. Here he was, fifty three years old and being led by children. He probably shouldn’t think of them as children; the three of them were at the very least in their twenties. But all he could think about when looking at Cassian was Aridite, the youngling. Kids scrambling over him for sweets. The boys in Hauri’s Gang, who had loved each other in a fierce kind of way even as they kept themselves at an appropriate distance. 

 

Baze closed his eyes and rested his head against Chirrut’s shoulder.  _ This was a war for children, _ he thought. Those fighting for their future, better chances on their tongues. Those who did not know the price of their life, but were ready to lay it down at their feet anyway. 

 

He wished they would stop coming for the children. 

 

He was no longer a child though. But he was still prepared to die. In fact, he thought, for that very reason, he probably was living his last moments right now. 

 

Chirrut hummed under his breath, a little tune, a smile on his lips. 

 

\----

 

When Baze watched Chirrut walk out into the open area of the battle, intent on finding that lever and pulling it to victory, some part of him sighed, then let go. Perhaps this is why he didn’t chase after him immediately, pull him back to safety before he stepped out into the fray of the bullets and the blood and death. 

 

It was not the force that flowed through him. Baze didn’t believe in the force. But maybe, for his last moments, his love lying dead on the ground in front of him, he could, just a little bit. 

 

Chirrut’s last words, not spoken aloud but heard just the same, echoed in his head. 

 

“My hero,” he had said. 

  
_ My hero.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still am not sure how this got so long, but here we are 8,000 words later. 
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading, commenting, and giving kudos. Y'all are my life blood and deserve the world. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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